


Facing Realities

by vsulli



Series: The Blinders and The Bees: The Coming of Age Story of Chadda Samra [1]
Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: F/M, Period-Typical Racism, Racism, chadda samra, isaiah jesus/chadda samra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-29 22:12:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19839550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vsulli/pseuds/vsulli
Summary: Chadda, Finn and Isaiah have been best friends for as long as they can remember. However, after years of joking around and family expectations, a relationship forms between them that doesn’t sit well with every party in their little group of friends and family. || In this fic: Chadda faces some trouble at school and Isaiah helps her through it





	Facing Realities

Chadda never really knew what it meant to be a person of colour in a white world. She’d grown up with a Shelby at her side, so no one ever bothered her or her family about where they’d come from or the colour of their skin. No one even tried, too afraid of what the city’s worst family would do to them if they did. She thought she was safe with Finn, safe with the Shelby family with her; it’s what her mother had always told her. It was really the only reason, she suspected, that her mother even let her be friends with him. For a long time, she was safe.

Chadda learned what it meant to be a person of colour in a white world. She grew older, started noticing the looks she received, heard the quiet comments people made, and realized why her parents’ businesses weren’t making as much money as all of the rest, even though their services were as good as any other in the city. But it wasn’t until the girls at her school realized her Peaky boys had no authority on their grounds did Chadda realize how they really felt towards her. Though they were never violent at school, Chadda learned that girls fought better with their words, something she wasn’t used to considering who her friends were. She was used to witnessing fist fights. 

She’d just been lounging against a tree when she noticed the sun’s disappearance. It was replaced by the shadows of two girls. They said nothing at first, but then when she looked up and tried to stand, she was quickly pushed right back down. That was the first shock, because the girls who liked to bother her had never laid a hand on her, they’d made a point years ago saying that they didn’t want to contract any foreign germs she had. These girls didn’t seem to care. 

“You’re not meant to be here, Sam,” one of the girls said, spitting out her name as if was poison in her mouth. “You should be inside, you’re burnt as it is, aren’t you?” The girls weren’t even in her class (they were two years younger) but the fact that they knew her was no surprise. There were only a handful of people who looked like her in all of Birmingham. She just watched as the girls laughed, thinking their joke was funny. The second girl looked down at her, and before Chadda could react, the book in her hands was swiped. She still did not stand though, knowing that anything she did to stand up for herself could be turned into a strike against her. 

She said nothing, which only seemed to provoke some more laughter from the duo. Chadda resisted the urge to cringe. That sound was directed at her much too often, and she was beginning to hate it. The girls continued to speak, poking fun and pointing fingers, making fun of everything from her darker features to her unfashionably long hair, things she had no control over, be it because of biology or her cultural expectations, things these girls would never understand themselves. But she stayed seated. Stayed calm. Her mother had warned her about engaging, and she would rather take the insults than bare the truth of what her mother had warned her about. That anything she did to these girls would result in a punishment much worse than they could ever imagine. It was almost ten minutes later when the girls seemed to lighten up, getting bored of having no reaction, and Chadda smirked to herself when she realized she hadn’t given them the satisfaction of getting one.

“Whatever, just stay outside where you can get as dark as a nig—”

“Shut up!” 

Her eyes widened. She hadn’t thought before she opened her mouth. She was supposed to stay quiet, give them no reason to go running to one of the teachers. But the word they were about to use set her off, and she couldn’t help it. She could only watch their expressions change from surprise to anger, and before Chadda realized what was happening, she felt a sharp pain just above her brow, the sharp corner of her stolen book breaking skin. Slowly, she brought her hand up to her forehead, taking in a shaky breath when she felt something wet sliding down the side of her face. She’d been in fights before but never had she been attacked so directly, every fight she’d ever been in was just because of association. Never in her life had she had something thrown at her for just speaking. Too shocked by it, she didn’t notice the girls running off, only noticed the looks she was receiving from the people around who saw what had just happened.

“Sam, you alright?” 

She didn’t bother looking towards whoever called to her, just stood silently, holding back tears as she made her way off the school grounds, not even bothering to tell anyone she was leaving.

Sam made her way home first, but skipped her own front door when she got to it. What would her mother say if she walked in now? She’d probably just get angry with her for leaving school early and would send her right back. Instead, she walked further up the street, right to the betting shop. Without waiting for the crowd of men to move, she pushed through, ignoring their shouts of protest as she entered and ignored the questioning looks she received from the girls who sat around at their desks. Not bothering to explain to anyone who watched her, she ran straight up the stairs.

It was only when she shut the door to Finn’s bedroom did she finally let herself cry. Chadda usually never cried. She refused to cry. She was stronger than that. Her parents raised her to be stronger than that. Sliding down the closed door, she drew her knees up to her chest and just stared down at the book she still had clutched in her hands. 

“Sam?” 

She ignored it. 

“Sam, open the door.”

“I’m changing my clothes.”

“You’re sitting on the floor. I can see under the door.”

“Just leave me—”

“I’m not letting Finn come home to find you crying alone in his room, so open the fucking door, Chadda.”

Slowly, she stood, taking a deep breath that did nothing to calm her. It seemed that she’d held in everything for so long that the moment she started crying she just couldn’t seem to stop. Even when she opened the door, the tears still flowed and Isaiah didn’t wait a second before pulling her into his arms. There was still the cut on her forehead, her cheeks were all wet, and she was ruining his shirt, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. 

“Do you wanna sit down?” He spoke softly. She’d never heard him sound like that before and it only made her cry harder. “Okay, we’re sitting down, c’mon.” 

She must have looked stupid. She felt stupid. Especially since it was Isaiah’s shoulder she was bawling her eyes out into. She wasn’t the only one who was on the receiving end of comments like those, and Isaiah had it much worse than her. Whenever he wasn’t with the other boys he was constantly being the victim to racial attacks and provocation. She bet he never sat in his best friend’s room crying about it. She felt Isaiah’s hand rubbing up and down her back, felt his other cupping the back of her head, and when she finally took a deep breath to help calm herself down, she realized she was sitting on his lap. But she didn’t feel the need to move. 

“Will you tell me what happened now? You have everyone worrying downstairs.” 

Chadda hummed, sniffling as she straightened enough to look at him. 

“You’re bleeding.”

“I know,” she whispered. Her voice was so quiet, barely loud enough for herself to hear. “They threw the book at me.” It had fallen on the floor at some point, and Chadda sniffed again when Isaiah leaned down to pick it up. He flipped it in his hand, a frown forming on his face and Chadda couldn’t figure out why she felt the need to cheer him up instead. 

“Who? And why?” 

“Why does it matter? Planning to jump a couple of seventeen year old girls?” Despite her wet cheeks and bleeding forehead, she offered a weak smile. However, all it caused was a deeper frown on Isaiah’s face.

“This isn’t funny, Sam.”

“They said things.”

“What things?”

She could feel her eyes pricking again and without really thinking she started playing with his tie to distract herself, trying to keep herself from crying again. The last thing she wanted to do was cry. 

“Said I shouldn’t be out in the sun, they, uhm, said my skin was dark enough and if I didn’t go back inside I would start,” she took a deep breath, “start looking like a—” She didn’t want to say it, couldn’t say it. But by the look on Isaiah’s face, Chadda knew he understood. He nodded, and his eyes moved to where his hand was still clutching the book. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Chadda shook her head, and she was quick to tilt his chin up to look at her. “You have nothing to be sorry for, those girls don’t know anything.” 

“They hate people like me, not you, if it wasn’t for—”

“No.” Isaiah stared at her, and Chadda didn’t take her eyes off of him. “This is not your fault. It’s just them, all of them.”

“They hurt you,” he whispered, and Chadda couldn’t help but close her eyes when his thumb ran over the cut. “It shouldn’t have happened.” Her eyes were still closed when he pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed at her forehead. “Especially not to you.” If they weren’t sitting so close she wouldn’t have heard him say it. “There is nothing wrong with you. Nothing. The only people who care about the colour of your skin don’t really matter at all. You’re still smarter than all of them combined, funnier too, and no matter what you’re the most beautiful person in any room. So, whatever they say is completely irrelevant since they can never compare.” 

When she opened her eyes he was staring so intently at her, his hand frozen where it stayed pressed against her. It was only a minute that they sat like that but it was enough time for Chadda to remember where they were. She cleared her throat, and it was enough to snap Isaiah out of whatever he was thinking of doing. They were on Finn’s bed, dealing with something far too serious for this to be happening at all. She moved his hands as she stood, but she watched as he slowly took hold of one of hers and squeezed it. She smiled, for real this time, and Isaiah smiled back.

“Thank you.” 

“Anytime.” 

It was that moment the door swung open, and their hands dropped instantly. Finn said nothing before pulling Chadda into his arms, not needing any reason other than the knowledge that she had been crying. She heard Isaiah stand up, and when she peeked an eye open he only smiled and offered a nod before slipping out of the door.

“Are you okay?” Chadda nodded, looking up at Finn with a small smile. “Are you sure? I was told you—”

“I’m fine, Finn, really,” she assured him, “just need some patching up and I’ll be back to the Sam you know and love.”

“Okay, good.” He leaned down and pecked her lips. “Okay, let’s go find you a bandage for your head.”


End file.
